


Of Dogs and Delicious Crepes

by Weresnake



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, EAT MY SHORTS STEPHEN KING, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Everyone lives, Fix It Fic, Fluff, HEAVY mention of suicide, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, except georgie F, kinda? Listen theyre both gay and over It, theyre all adults dont be weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 03:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20789510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weresnake/pseuds/Weresnake
Summary: “Do we have coffee?” We should make coffee.”“Richie, this is your place.” Eddie reminds him as he flips a crepe on the pan.“Yeah, but, I dun wanna get up.” Richie yawns again and, with glee, sees Eddie yawn as well.“God damnit Richie, don’t make me yawn!” He whines.“I can just brew us some.” Stan offers while setting the now chopped bowl of fruit aside. Richie readies another eye watering yawn but turns his gaze to Stan. “Oh, uh. Sure, thanks Stan. Just don’t do wuss out and make decaf, a bitch needs her fuel.”“A bitch could also hog the blankets less if she wants someone to sleep with her.” Eddie adds with a smug look and Richie huffs.“Yeah well, you keep kicking me in your sleep!” He retorts back, sticking his tongue out childishly.“Ladies, ladies, your both pretty.” Stan intercedes as he scours the pantry. “But seriously, where do you keep your coffee grounds Rich?”~~~~~After... All that, Stan decides what he needs most is to spend some time with friends to recover whatever scraps of mental health he's still holding onto. Oh, and he adopts an emotional support dog to help as well.





	Of Dogs and Delicious Crepes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ho, ya bois back with another fix it fic even though i have tests to study for. Enjoy

As the warm light or morning begins to soak the room in a honey glow, a bundle of fluff begins stirring awake. Giving the best stretch its little dog body could achieve, it trots across the room towards its owner’s bed like it does every day since it was adopted. It jumps onto the empty suitcase next to the bed, then onto the bed, and finally up to the still face of a man still deeply resting. Satisfied, it lays down beside his face and begins its day by licking his nose to rouse him awake. 

The face scrunches up and theres a noise like a groan that accompanies it as he tucks his face away from the Pomeranian but it only makes the dog get onto his shoulder with determination, much to its owners displeasure. 

“M up, ‘m up. I’ll get you breakfast Hero.” Stan whines and rubs at his face. 

Hero yips. 

“Yeah, ok. Just don’t wake up the others.” He mutters between yawning and swings his legs over the edge of his bed. 

Before heading to the kitchen, he checks himself in the mirror. Frankly, he couldn’t recognize his own face looking back at him. A tired, jaded face of a dead man somehow still walking. There was also an odd feeling that lingered as he stared at his reflection, it feels weird remembering he could’ve actually died just last week. No, not dying from Pennywise, just before then. When he attempted to take his life after Mike called, not that Mike somehow pushed him into doing such a thing willingly. He was just being a coward and still just as big of one to then scream for help as he felt himself slipping away from the blood loss. 

He inhales, then releases his breath like a slowly deflating balloon. Little paws press against his leg and he sees little Hero’s black eyes shining back at him almost as if to say “breakfast time nerd, lets go”. He sighs and scoops up his dog to carry out of the room as his last morbid thoughts trail away from his mind. 

Upon entering the kitchen he sees Eddie leaning over the counter skimming over recipes in a ratty cookbook. Upon hearing the other pad in, looks up and smiles warmly. “Morning Stan.” 

“Morning Eddie,” he mumbles back and goes about the motions of shoveling kibble into Heros bowl. “What do you have in mind for breakfast this time?” 

“Crepes, maybe.” Eddie looks over a weathered page before flipping past it. “In the mood for anything?” 

He bites his own lip in thought. “Yeah, that sound pretty good actually. I can prepare the fruit to go with them as well, if you want.” 

“Hell yeah,” Eddie beams back and starts getting out the things to make the batter. Stan fishes out the fruit from the fridge, but when he gets out the knife to chop them up he catches Eddie looking at his bandages. 

“Something wrong?” Stan asks as plainly as he can but winces as it comes out a bit harshly. 

He watches Eddie fumble for words and grow flustered. “I- uh. Do you want gloves to cover up the…” Eddie gestures at the bandages wrapping up and down his fore-arms. Everything has healed a great deal since, but the deep cuts still had a long way to go, no thanks to his brief excursion under Derry. 

“No,” he says and then tacks on: “but thank you.” A bit stiffly. 

They go about preparing breakfast in a silence that starts awkward until it melts into something comfortable again. Eddie swears to himself softly as he burns a finger, which makes Stan laugh at his pain, then Eddie telling him to shut his trap only wins in making Stans laughter bubble more. 

Eddies about to retort by flicking water from the sink at him playfully when Richie shuffles into the kitchen with his glasses skewed and dark hair a rats nest.  
“About time you made it. Ed was about to file a missing persons report.” Stan gives him a plain smile and yelps lightly at the water droplets hit his face. Richie gives a tired grin back and sits down at the table to rest his head on the surface. 

“Mmph, yeah. Slap my face on every milk carton afterwards too.” He says, then folds his arms underneath to rest his chin on them. “Do we have coffee?” We should make coffee.” 

“Richie, this is your place.” Eddie reminds him as he flips a crepe on the pan. 

“Yeah, but, I dun wanna get up.” Richie yawns again and, with glee, sees Eddie yawn as well. 

“God damnit Richie, don’t make me yawn!” He whines. 

“I can just brew us some.” Stan offers while setting the now chopped bowl of fruit aside. Richie readies another eye watering yawn but turns his gaze to Stan. “Oh, uh. Sure, thanks Stan. Just don’t do wuss out and make decaf, a bitch needs her fuel.”

“A bitch could also hog the blankets less if she wants someone to sleep with her.” Eddie adds with a smug look and Richie huffs. 

“Yeah well, you keep kicking me in your sleep!” He retorts back, sticking his tongue out childishly. 

“Ladies, ladies, your both pretty.” Stan intercedes as he scours the pantry. “But seriously, where do you keep your coffee grounds Rich?” 

“Next to the sugar, it’s the tin with the cute dog sticker on it.” His eyes light up. “Speaking of cute doggo. How’s the worlds best dog doing this morning?” He asks in a cooing voice at the Pomeranian sitting just by Stans feet. Hero trots up to Richie at being mentioned and Richie picks up the dog to give kisses on its head. The dog yips and licks all over his face while Richie giggles joyfully. 

“What?” 

Eddie blanches. “Nothing. Just don’t expect a kiss from me anytime soon.” 

Richie sulks. “Aw babe…” 

“You and I both know Hero spends a good amount of time licking his asshole,” he turns to Stan with a look asking to back him up. 

Stan shrugs nonchalantly. “Oh without a doubt Hero’s licks his butt once a day. Not to mention the utter garbage he’s eaten in between meals, like that dead frog he found during a walk yesterday.” 

Eddies face screws up even more. 

Both Stan and Richie snicker. 

“Didn’t you know that some Pomeranian dogs also like to lick other peoples teeth as well?” Richie adds. 

Eddie sets the three plates down with a disgusted expression adorning his face. “Now I’m not sure I even want breakfast any more…” 

“Oh your appetite will come back, don’t be such a sourpuss.” Richie teases and tilts his head with this look of utter warmth and fondness for him. 

The coffee pot gurgles to life as it begins brewing. Stan pulls out three mugs, a plain one with light blue flowers enveloping the sides, a blocky navy blue mug with some snarky text on it, and a mug with Courage the Cowardly Dogs many fear-stricken faces patterned all over. 

Now with coffee served, the three start eating in between little chats until both plates and mugs go empty. 

In what feels like almost never, there’s this sense of ease that washes over Stan. No one treating him as broken or weak despite his shameful attempt to disappear, nothing to worry about in the moment, just the three of them hanging out together closely just like when they were young. He adds a mental note to check on the others after he leaves the two to shower. Hero trails behind him with their tail wagging, knowing fully well that their friend was in a better mood then when he first woke up.


End file.
